


nephilim don't hate seagulls

by cloudburst



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Beaches, M/M, also shrug emoji, entirely self indulgent, not an au it's just dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 10:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudburst/pseuds/cloudburst
Summary: Magnus wakes up on a beach with a hangover. Why he didn't spell it away? Alec would laugh at him.You can remember to use magic to put away the dishes, but not fix your hangover?Speaking of—where is Alexander?





	nephilim don't hate seagulls

**Author's Note:**

> based entirely off of one 5 second line in new girl; wrote this at 2 am, and i've never been more proud

Magnus realizes that it was a lapse in judgement when he wakes up—head pounding, with the unmistakable feeling of dry, coarse sand shifting beneath him. Alec would shake his head, ask him why he could remember to magic away the dishes into the kitchen cabinets, but not manage to account for the wicked hangover that is currently playing off tune classic rock in his head. It's not until the conclusion of this thought that Magnus thinks to sit up—head whipping around, well, as quickly as one is willing to whip their head when KISS is having a reunion concert inside of it—as he takes in his surroundings. It's a beach, and thankfully, it is a beach in New York. There are no mundanes in sight, which he is thankful for; the deep purple fabric of his suit is great and all, but not necessarily when covered in sand and alcohol smell.

It's at the observation of the empty beach that Magnus remembers: _Alexander_. He should be feeling just as poorly, if not worse, as Magnus _has_ had centuries to build up his legendary alcohol tolerance. Alexander, on the other hand, has not. Magnus knows this for a fact—thinks about the time Alec became tipsy after half a glass of Rosé, and declared his love five times in a single minute—he thinks about this as he stands up, the not so distant memory bringing a small smile to his face. It's the smile Alexander has told him he adores, the one where his eyes go down and the corners of his lips lift so subtly Alec is not so sure they have. The corners of his eyes wrinkle. 

Magnus thinks of making his hangover go away as he walks along the waves' break, feet getting wet as he realizes: _I'm not wearing shoes._ Ultimately, he decides against it—reveling in the way the smell of the salt soothes him, and taking in the shock of cold water against his toes. He is not worried—knows he will find Alexander in the next few minutes. As time progresses, he only becomes increasingly aware that the situation he will come across could be all the more strange.

It is with this thought in mind—and with the smile that Alexander loves gracing his features—that Magnus braces himself for what he will find when he finally encounters Alec on the beach. He would not have left Magnus there alone, even in a drunken state. He thinks on why Alexander would not have been at his side, with the squishing sand making its way into his shock of dark hair as well. Why was he not there to kiss Magnus' hangover away, even through his smelly breath and ruffled suit? He knows Alec would have held him in a second. 

It is after another minute of walking that Magnus begins to wonder if he should truly worry about the fact they were not glamoured—about the fact that Alec could be anywhere in the New York Metro Area at this point. 

Though, when Magnus does finally reach Alec, it is perhaps due to his worry that he cannot fully process what he's seeing. 

A flashback to the night prior: _Alec wants pizza. 'It's so greasy and poor for my health, but Magnus, the mundanes really did something right.' They are slightly drunk—making it to the beach with approximately four and a half pizzas—Alec having eaten half of the fifth on the walk. They sit on the beach, just close enough for the foam to wash over their toes. Magnus watches his shoes float away into the surf. Alec reaches for one, and splashes them both. 'At least you tried, Alexander.'_

Therefore, the scattered pizza boxes make sense—as does the lonely bottle of red wine buried in the sand next to one of the boxes. Alec must have taken it upon himself to finish the bottle, lousy alcohol tolerance and all. Yet, the mundane sight of pizza boxes and their choice of beverage is not what shocks Magnus the most. It is Alexander's chosen action. 

Magnus is unsure if he's ever made as ungodly a noise in his life as he does when Alec throws a slice of pepperoni pizza at one of the unsuspecting seagulls a few feet off. It comes out as a cross between laughter and a gasp. Alec hears the noise, the noise that Magnus would consider atrocious but natural, and turns to Magnus—another slice of pepperoni in hand, releasing it at another one of the battered, pizza seagull's brethren. 

"Magnus!" And it's an exclamation of relief as much as it is happiness—Alec, with his wrinkled, sand covered black t-shirt and his depressingly as black pants walking toward him with a purpose. The smile on his face is dopey, and Magnus can only formulate one sentence as Alec reaches him, the sun rising behind him making the both of them glow golden. 

"Alexander, darling," a pause, Alec wrapping his arms around Magnus's waist to look down at him. The smile never leaves—Magnus' hands coming to rest on Alec's chest, palms flat, fingers splayed across the sand covered shirt. "Please tell me, why were you throwing pizza at those seagulls?"

Magnus has never been more unprepared for anything in his life, than he is for the giggle that finds itself crawling out of Alec's throat—and continuing for a few seconds as Magnus realizes the ridiculous nature of it all. Alexander is still drunk—his drunk shadowhunter boyfriend, holding him in broad daylight on a New York beach—and this is normal, what he considers happiness. But also, he recognizes this is not the point. As Alec continues to laugh and evade, Magnus tilts his head up—presses a kiss to Alec's chin before asking again. "Please tell me, Alexander."

Alec nods, suddenly serious—drunken haze covering his eyes. _Damn Nephilim and their awful tolerance. Damn dollar store red wine that Alec had insisted upon purchasing, instead of allowing Magnus to acquire them some from the South of France._

"Well, Magnus," Alec begins, his eyes never leaving Magnus' face. "I thought they might be hungry."

Magnus is unsure as to why that's the most hilarious, ridiculous thing he's ever heard in his life, but hiding his head against Alec's chest and shaking violently with silent laughter is all he can do not to laugh in Alexander's face. 

"I never knew you were so—" Magnus laughs, breathily, ceasing his laughter to look up at Alec once more. "—so altruistic, and caring when intoxicated, darling." 

Alec tries to remain serious—make the moment one of weight as he says: "There's a, lots of things you don't know about me."

Magnus won't deny him that response—just kisses him softly, quickly on the mouth, hangover ebbing away. 

He supposes that throwing pizza at seagulls is just one of the many things he will continue to learn and love about Alexander Lightwood.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what ya think


End file.
